The Mediterranean hides pockets of water so perfect they feel illegal. These aren’t the bays plastered across Instagram; they’re the ones where your boat anchors disappear into sand so clean you can still see the shank at 18 metres, where the only light at 3 a.m. comes from plankton exploding under your keel. I’ve spent six consecutive summers hunting them with nothing but a 20 kg Bruce, a 10 mm chain that’s older than TikTok, and a promise to every friend who’s crewed with me: if you tell a soul, you’re off the boat. These are the seven boat anchors graveyards I’ll defend with my life.
1. Cala Culip – Cap de Creus, Spain
42°19.25’N 003°18.11’E
Most boats blast past the Cap de Creus natural park chasing Cadaqués glamour. Big mistake. Nose into Cala Culip at sunset and the granite walls turn blood-orange. Depth sounder reads 14 m where the sand suddenly thickens into chocolate mud. I back down at 2200 RPM and my Bruce boat anchor vanishes so fast the windlass trips the breaker. We rode 42 knots of Tramontana for three straight nights; the plotter drew a circle exactly 0.00 nm wide. Zero light pollution means the Milky Way drips into the sea. Ashore, a shepherd’s path climbs to abandoned WWII bunkers where wild goats stare like they pay rent. I’ve left boat anchors set here for five days straight and returned to find the chain still bar-taut. That’s not luck; that’s Mediterranean voodoo.
2. Porquerolles North Cove – Côte d’Azur, France
42°00.52’N 006°12.11’E
Every charter fleet stampedes to Plage d’Argent. Meanwhile, 400 metres north lies a pine-shadowed notch that fits exactly three boats if you’re polite. The seabed is a patchwork of grass over sugar sand. Drop in 10 m, let out 7:1 scope, and watch your boat anchor disappear like it’s being swallowed by the planet. We swung through 38-knot meltemi gusts and the GPS track looked like a parked car. Ashore, one vineyard path snakes to Domaine de la Courtade—€12 for a bottle of rosé that tastes like someone bottled a sunset. I’ve spent four nights here without seeing another mast. The only drama was a French couple arguing in whispers about whose turn it was to row the jerrycan for water. Pro tip: bring two boat anchors if the forecast flips to southeast; the grass rips out like cheap carpet when the wind clocks.
3. Cala Domestica West Pocket – Sardinia, Italy
39°59.92’N 008°23.15’E
Twin beaches connected by a 70-metre tunnel carved by Phoenicians (probably). The western pocket is the one nobody fits into after 10 a.m. Depth: 8 m over sand so fine it squeaks between your toes. Locals drop bow and stern boat anchors here when the maestral pipes up at 30+ knots. I watched a 40-year-old CQR copy hold a 15-metre fishing boat like it was glued. We spent two nights swimming the tunnel at golden hour; the water stays lit turquoise long after the sun vanishes behind the cliffs. Cliff-jump from the tunnel mouth at high tide—12 metres into water so clear you can see your boat anchors glinting below. Zero road access means zero day-trippers after 1800. Bring a powerful torch; the tunnel drips with glow-worms that look like underwater constellations.
4. Kamenjak Secret Crack – Istria, Croatia
44°46.15’N 013°54.92’E
Five minutes south of the safari-bar circus lies an unmarked limestone fissure barely wider than a 42-footer. The seabed is pebble that grabs boat anchors like industrial velcro. I watched a 25 kg Rocna set so hard the skipper couldn’t break it out without diving. Tie a 40-metre line to the lone pine on the port cliff and sleep under a sky so clear you’ll lose count of satellites before midnight. Morning coffee tastes better when you’re the only soul for three nautical miles. We spent four days here reading books and grilling octopus caught on a €3 handline. The only visitor was a park ranger who charged us €0 because “you’re the first boat all season that didn’t blast reggaeton.” That’s the power of proper boat anchors and zero ego.
5. Macarella West Cave – Menorca, Balearics
39°56.15’N 003°56.28’E
Macarelleta gets the drone armies. Paddle 200 metres west through the cave system and you’re in a private fjord that holds exactly one boat if you’re greedy. Depth: 5 m over sand so white it reflects sunlight like snow. My 15 kg Delta boat anchor set first time, every single time across nine visits. Swim ashore to a hidden cave bar that only opens when the park rangers aren’t looking—€3 pomada in plastic cups and zero ring-lights. We spent a week here in 2024, moving only when the bread ran out. The cave echoes with laughter at 2 a.m. and the water temperature never drops below 26 °C in August. Bring two boat anchors if you’re staying longer than 48 hours; the afternoon thermal can clock around to northwest and turn the bay into a wind tunnel.
6. Cala Llevadó North – Costa Brava, Spain
41°42.38’N 002°52.19’E
Round the headland from the resort chaos to a bay with a half-sunken 1970s trawler skeleton. Depth: 7 m over sand littered with chain-eating rocks. Always, always rig a trip-line on your boat anchors here or you’ll be booking a diver before breakfast. I lost a €450 Danforth copy in 2022 and learned my lesson. The reward is total solitude and a shoreline trail to a nudist cove where the average age is 68 and nobody cares what you look like. We spent three nights watching phosphorescence so bright it lit the cockpit like a nightlight. The wreck attracts octopus the size of tyres—bring a spear gun if you’re into that sort of thing. Just don’t tell the park rangers.
7. Spiaggia del Principe Eastern Grass Patch – Costa Smeralda, Sardinia
41°08.85’N 009°32.40’E
Yes, the famous one. But arrive at 0630 and you own it until 1100. Anchor in 9 m where sand turns to thick grass that laughs at 35 knots of mistral. Charter cats can’t fit; their skippers circle like vultures while your boat anchors hold fast. Walk the pink granite boulders at sunrise—the colour defies every filter known to man. We spent six hours swimming with barracuda that followed us like dogs. By 0900 the billionaire yachts arrive and suddenly you’re surrounded by floating wedding cakes. Pull your boat anchors and ghost away to the next secret. That’s the game.
These seven anchorages share one religion: perfect boat anchors and zero social media. I’ve left chains set for weeks and returned to find them exactly where I dropped them. Share these coordinates only with crew who understand that the best boat anchors aren’t the shiniest—they’re the ones that let you vanish completely.